Colonel Cluck

Yes, I said Colonel Cluck,

not Colonel Klink.

Last summer just before school started I began hearing roosters.

Trust me when I say my hearing roosters was nothing

like when my better half began hearing kittens.

(I hadn't been exposed to pain killers and anesthetics like she had been

but that's another story for another day.  It's a great story though!)

I had heard crowing roosters for about a week.

We live about a quarter of a mile from our closest neighbor

and we never hear their poultry.

So I set off on a walk to find my early morning alarm clock.

North of us I discovered a big white rooster and his hen,

so naturally I gave chase.

It pretty much sucks when a rooster can outrun you.

I was disgusted and hot so I went home.

I began to call the white one Colonel Crow
and the red one Madame Cluck.

I sat and pondered how to catch them.

I knew I would have to be wily, 

so I channeled one of my favorite cartoon characters. 

He always used bird seed,

so I decided to use grain.

Let's just say that didn't work

and since I was

fresh out of dynamite,

I wasn't sure what my next step would be.

About a week after my grain bribe,

one of my faithful companions squeezed under the fence

and went on a walk-about.

I discovered my escape artist had escaped 
and so I went to look for him.

I found him down the road a piece, crouched over the hen 
and just a 'chewing away.  I was mortified.

 I could see the hen was still breathing

but looked to be in bad shape and I suspected that I would have

to put the poor bird out of it's misery.

When I pulled Sammy off, the stupid bird took off running.

Now I figured even I could catch an injured bird, but 

that stupid hen led me on a merry chase.

However, I was ultimately successful

and I carried the bloody bird back to the farm.

I put it into a small dog crate

and allowed it to settle in.

It made all sorts of chicken noises and sounded much

like a hen.......

until bright and early one morning I heard the crowing of a rooster.

A weak, very hoarse crow, but a crow it was.

Seems like I'm not any better at sexing poultry than I am at sexing goats.

Turns out our hen was actually a rooster

and became Colonel Cluck at that time.

He's been very lonely so I've been watching

Craig's List for some hens.

I finally asked a co-worker if she could spare just two hens.

She could, and so I picked them up last Friday after school.

I took them to the pen and Colonel Cluck

began scratching and throwing dirt like crazy.

Let's just suffice to say that he's very, very happy.